Velvet

After lunch, we’d walk hand in hand to my fifth-period class—silently. In study hall, if I asked him to help with algebra or chemistry, he would. Other than that, we didn’t talk. I convinced Rachel and Joe that without Adrian, I’d be failing my classes, so they occasionally let him over to the living room to tutor me, but they’d be sitting in the same room with us, chaperoning. I made a habit of shoving my hands into my coat pockets so no one would see that they were shaking. The rage of several months ago came back in full force, drenching every moment.

The one thing that surprised me was that Rachel and Joe let me hang out with Trish—in fact, they encouraged it. Maybe they figured if I hung out with my friends more often, I’d forget about Adrian. I went over to Trish’s three or four times a week for the afternoon, and often one of the others would come, too; mostly Meghan, but sometimes Stephanie with Laura or Jenny. Ben was also over at Trish’s a lot. He never interfered with us hanging out with her, but he was always nearby, and I often caught the two lying side by side on the floor or sitting next to each other on the couch, holding hands, as if that simple expression was all they needed to say how they felt about each other. I felt so happy for Trish, and for Ben too, I suppose, but mixed in was a stupid bitterness. The most complicated thing that would ever interfere in their relationship was whether or not Trish made it into Oxford. I could picture him gladly going with her. I could picture them getting married. I could picture them with big, fat babies, and grandbabies. They would eat scones and start saying “poppycock!” and they’d be happy.

I tried to push the bitterness down.

I tried—but most days, I failed.





16

FAIRY GODMOTHER

Rachel dropped me off at school and I shuffled, eyes mostly closed, to homeroom. I got all of three steps before tripping over the curb, landing on a piece of ice, and going straight down in a flail of limbs. Adrian was walking ahead of me down the sidewalk and must have done his vampire thing and rushed over, because I never actually hit the ground. Holding me, he sighed—an angry sound—and put his arm around my waist as he half dragged, half led me to Mr. Warren’s class. Trish met us at the door and stared curiously.

“Can you help her inside?”

“Sure.”

Surprisingly, she didn’t ask any more questions, just slung my arm over her shoulders and helped me walk through the door. After she deposited me in my seat, the bell rang, and I knew Adrian would be long gone.

“What’s wrong with you?” Trish whispered, leaning close before Mr. Warren took roll.

“I’m tired,” I replied bluntly. My cheek was stuck to the desk and my eyes were cemented shut.

“You look like you haven’t slept for a week.”

“Mphm,” I replied. More like two weeks, but whatever.

“What’s wrong with Duchess de la Mara?” Meghan asked. I’d made the mistake of looking at her face; she wore lipstick so bright it seemed to pierce my eyes.

Mr. Warren saved the day. “Rise for the Pledge of Allegiance, please. You, too, Ms. Holte.”

Trish grabbed my arm and all but dragged me up. I mumbled the pledge and fell back down into my seat when we were done, dragging my sweatshirt hood over my face and propping my chin on my fist to appear awake. It seemed to work; Mr. Warren didn’t bother me the rest of the class, and Trish raised her hand to answer whenever he looked in our direction.

As the bell rang and we headed to math (a class I had trouble staying awake in anyway), Trish glowered at me. “Mystic, something is seriously not right with you.”

I laughed, a little hysterically, because it was funny.

“See?” she demanded. “This is weird!” We took a seat as far back in the old brick classroom as we could. “Not to mention that you and Adrian have been acting funny since New Year’s.” She looked at me suggestively, and I wasn’t exactly sure why.

Leaning my face on my arm, I closed my eyes. “As far as me acting weird, it’s honestly just because I’m tired.” To make lying to her simpler, I decided to tell her the truth. Part of it, anyway. “I’ve been having these nightmares a lot, and they keep me awake. If I’m with Adrian, I can usually get back to sleep.” I yawned hugely. “But my aunt and uncle grounded me”—Trish had already heard this story, and found it equal parts hilarious and awful—“and Adrian’s been acting weird, so I don’t want to bug him right now. Family stuff, I think.” I opened my eyes blearily to gauge her reaction.

She was frowning, obviously displeased. “De la Dumbass is not taking care of you. And he should have stood up for you in front of your aunt and uncle.” A mischievous smile spread over her face. “I’m gonna have to have a little chat with the stud muffin.”

I thought about telling her no, she shouldn’t, because he did take care of me (just not in the way she might think). But I didn’t. Because maybe she could figure out why he was ignoring me and being so weird. Trish had a way of getting information out of people.

Second, third, and fourth periods passed slowly. When lunch rolled around, Adrian was waiting for me outside the art room, as usual. Before he could say anything, I reached into his jeans’ pocket and snatched his keys.

“I’m gonna take a nap in the truck.”

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